All For You
by bemysomeone
Summary: After the shooting at Prom, Bianca moves in with the Torres', putting even more stress onto Drew's relationship with Katie. Drew goes to large lengths to avoid Bianca—but, just like old times, it doesn't take him long to realize he can't avoid her forever. Or at all.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: _After the shooting at Prom, Bianca moves in with the Torres', putting even more stress onto Drew's relationship with Katie. Drew goes to large lengths to avoid Bianca—but, just like old times, it doesn't take him long to realize he can't avoid her forever. Or at all._

* * *

Bianca sat uncomfortably between two avid lovers—two avid lovers who, frankly, didn't give a damn that she was smack dab in the middle of them. "Really?" she felt the urge to call out. "_Really?_" Drew and Katie's canoodle fest never stopped. And it was no surprise that the impatient girl had quickly gotten tired of it.

"That's it!" Bianca sat up from her seat on the couch, standing on her own two feet. She jabbed a finger in the direction of the stairs, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised. "Out, you two! I'm _not _spending my summer locked in some cave with two lovebirds who can't keep their hands off of each other. Ever heard of a room, Drew?" Bianca turned herself around to face the boy she was now living with. An eyebrow cocked, she stood, her foot tapping, waiting for an answer. One never came. "Well, you have one. So, get it together and get up there!" Her head shook slightly as she watched the two lock lips quickly before leaving the stuffy basement. "You can't have sex while I'm here, anyway."

Suddenly, Bianca wished she hadn't left them to themselves. Watching Drew and Katie in the prime of their relationship was better than any other offer she'd gotten to hang out. So far, not a soul had appeared behind that front door, asking for Bianca. No one called, either. _Am I really that bad? _She'd save that question for another day. For now, Adam was home, and Bianca was bored. Bored being an understatement, that is. She called his name once, twice, three times, until he shuffled his way down the stairs.

"Chill, B. A man with a gun-shot wound can only come to appease your needs so quickly." Adam seated himself beside Bianca. She cringed at the basis of his joke, still feeling guilty for the pain and heartache she'd caused the boys. Both of them—Drew _and _Adam. For a moment, she wondered if the pain would ever stop. Maybe it would, one day. But, for now, Bianca was here for them. She laughed lightly at his joke, still uncomfortable with the humor of the situation, but set her inner feelings aside.

"When you got shot, I told you Xbox whenever you wanted." Bianca smiled devilishly in the younger brother's direction. He smiled back at her. He knew where she was going with this. "So, I was thinking..." She tossed a controller his way, careful of any strain on him. "You want it right here, right now?"

"Way to make things dirty, Bianca."

"Shut it, Torres." Bianca turned on the TV with a flip of a button, the thought of Drew and Katie briefly leaving her mind. "Get ready for your ass to get kicked..." She paused, eyes flickering over Adam's bandaged shoulder. "Again."

"The girls at school weren't kidding when they called you a monster," Adam said with a lingering smirk.

"What can I say?" Bianca mused with a tilt of her head. "Things like this, they come naturally to me. Just like when I kick your ass, tears are going to be coming naturally to _you_." Adam laughed shortly at her joke. "Sucks to suck," she said again. And, thus, the game began.

* * *

After hours in his room with Katie, Drew finally came downstairs to meet Bianca's eye.

"So, Katie," she began. But he cut her off.

"Can we not talk about her?"

_That__'__s a first._

"No, you seem reluctant. We're definitely talking about her."

Drew sat far from Bianca on the couch, almost as if he was avoiding her. And he probably was. Bianca didn't dare to ask, knowing she'd pissed him off enough already. God knows she didn't need another anti-Bianca team member strutting around Toronto, let alone her place of stay. She peered up at Drew curiously, a small smile creeping up the side of her cracked lip.

"Chill, Drew. I was only kidding." Bianca inched closer to him, touching his shoulder tentatively. He swung his arm around to detach himself from her, shooting her a look of fire. Oh, he was angry, alright. And, for the first time in a long time, Bianca was scared. He'd just never been the one she was afraid of.

"No, _you _chill!"

Bianca sat up from her slouched position beside the boy. "Drew," she murmured. Immediately, the boy looked sorry. He mumbled her name back to her and she stood. Her breathing was unstable and heavy now. She could barely make eye contact with him as he reached for her hand. "What happened with her?" She asked him this with concern, and no other intent. Her former jealousy of Katie had melted away somewhat quickly as she sat down beside him again. "What happened, Drew?"

"She came up to my room, we were kissing, and..."

"And _what_?" Bianca was afraid for what was to come. Had they really...?

"That's thing." Drew said with a scoff. Shaking his head, he could barely keep himself collected for his reply to Bianca. "Nothing happened." Pursing his lips, he continued, less angry before. Maybe he was finally realizing how irrational he was being. "I thought we were going to, but she didn't want to. I'd been planning for this night for awhile, and she just bailed."

"Going to, what? Have sex?" Her look this time was not one of hurt, but one of disbelief. Drew had never been this dense—not even when _she'd_ been the girl chasing hopelessly after him. This time, it was the other way around. Drew wasn't used to being the chaser, that's for sure. Girls were attracted to him like flies were to shit. Graphic, but true, Bianca decided. "Has it ever occurred to you that not everyone is ready for sex, Drew? Hell, you're probably Katie's first serious boyfriend." Sighing, she continued to sort through her thoughts and speak as unbiasedly as possible. Which, for the sake of notability, was getting hard to do, seeing as she still harbored feelings for the boy.

"Just... wait for her, okay?" Bianca found herself short of breath as she gazed down at Drew. "I know she really cares about you. Katie'll come around."

"You're the best, B." Drew stood up, his smile back again and bright as ever. His hand met her shoulder momentarily, a slight rub to comfort the visibly lonely soul. "I'm going to go call her," he said. And he left without a second thought. Or another word.

She wished he'd turn around. She wished he'd change his mind. But she knew what was best for him—and what was best, wasn't her. All she did was hold him back; he said it himself. To Alli, to Katie. Even to Bianca herself.

Her lips were pursed tight again, and she didn't want to face him. It was useless, wasn't it? Wanting him again, wishing he was with her again. He'd never take her back, not after what she did. Her feelings for him were a joke. And, frankly, she was beginning to feel like their whole relationship had been one, too.

"Bianca?"

It was him.

_What should she do? Pretend like she wasn't there?_

"Uh, come in." Bianca shifted slightly from her resting position on the couch. It was getting late, and mostly everyone was asleep or back in their rooms.

"She took me back," he said finally.

"You're joking, right? You woke me up to tell me that?"

Drew smirked. "When you're sleeping, you have morning voice. I didn't hear any grogginess there."

"Still. You know I don't really care, right?"

And he smirked again. Someone should really tell him to stop doing that. His lips were becoming hard to resist, seeing as they were so dangerously close to her own.

"No, I know you do."

"No, I really don't." She gave him an urgent look, letting him know she wanted him out. That was only partially true. But any longer, and she wouldn't be able to sleep. Sometimes the thought of him kept her up. His blue eyes, the curve in his jaw. The little things that made Drew himself were hard to forget, especially when she was alone and he was all she could think about.

Bianca rolled onto her side to avoid his eyes. His beautiful, daunting eyes. She cast her brown ones away from his with a small frown, which slowly morphed into a grin. "Night, Torres," she mumbled softly.

"Night, DeSousa," he replied tenderly. It felt utterly unfamiliar addressing Bianca by last name, but Drew went with it, and stepped quickly up the stairs, to his room, where he fell asleep.

The word "night" was not romantic. Nothing in that situation had been. Yet it still made their hearts tingle. It still made them want more. It made Drew, who swore he only had eyes for Katie, want to rush back down the stairs and tell her "no." No, he wouldn't leave. Because he missed her. And he wanted to talk to her. And he missed all the little things, just like she did. But he didn't want to admit to it, just like she didn't want to, either.

Was it possible to be in love with two girls, for two totally different reasons? Drew didn't know. Neither did Bianca. Neither did Katie. They were all oblivious to each other, and it sucked. It sucked for all three of them. And it sucked that when Bianca was sad, Drew couldn't be there for her. But that was the way things needed to be. It wasn't just them anymore—there were lives on the line, more people involved. If someone got hurt, it wouldn't just be them. It'd be all of them. And there was always a price to pay.

They couldn't be together. They couldn't. It wasn't right, it never was. It was better if things just ended... for good.

And for a moment there, they thought it did. But they wouldn't be Drew and Bianca if they didn't find a way back to each other. Soon, they would realize that what was then, is now, and will be forever. Drew just needed to make his choice. But who said the right choice was always the easiest one?

* * *

A/N: _I am extremely displeased with how this turned out. Still, I would love your feedback and tips. Honestly, my writer's block has been at an all time high, and writing this piece, which is certainly not my best, was incredibly hard for me. But this is only the beginning, and it's bound to get better. I'm planning on making this a three-shot, or something of the sort. I know the story's moving a little quickly, but I found it blatantly obvious that, even when Krew was alive and well, Drianca loved each other. So, yeah. I'm going with that. __Thank you, and please review!_


	2. Chapter 2

Bianca took slow drags from the cigarette she held between her finger tips. She tapped the back end of the death stick with her nail, initiating the fall of the ash to the concrete flooring below her. She watched the flakes until she lost sight of them and grew bored. Her eyes then trained on the cars passing by ever so quickly, bringing a head rush and a throbbing ache to the temple of the girl. Unsatisfied, she lit another cigarette, bringing the stick to her lips once more. She blew out the smoke through gapped lips she'd been glossing repeatedly for hours; hours she couldn't seem, and didn't want to, get back. It was going to rain soon—most likely thunder, too—and all the stores nearby were closed. But Bianca still couldn't find it within herself to get back home.

_Home. _The word brought a smirk to her lips. A bitter smirk, more or less. She scoffed at the unfamiliarity of the word and the scarce presence of it in her life. The only person she considered family was Audra—and only because the woman took her in. Guess she didn't want her sons hanging out with a loser. It seemed like Bianca was the only thing she could control. And with the opportunity in front of her, she took it without regrets. Stomping out the cigarette she'd been smoking, Bianca supposed she wasn't as willing to follow the rules as she first thought. Smoking without parental consent—which was illegal, by the way, in all Canadian territories—and drinking her problems away late at night. They all thought she was above that, but Bianca knew she wasn't. At least that's what they said. Most people turned their back on her the first chance they got. Not many people believed in her—not even her Auntie, who'd been taking care of her for the majority of her teenage life. Bianca knew her Auntie was glad she was out of her life. The whole time they shared that crap apartment, it was hell for the both of them. Late at night, Bianca'd show up in handcuffs. And from time to time, it was the other way around, and her Auntie'd been arrested. From being in pain, to inflicting pain upon other people, their relationship with each other was unhealthy. It was for the best, she assured herself, that she didn't see her again. The emotional abuse was too much, along with the academic pressures she'd been feeling.

It was a sick thought to think, but the middle of the busy road looked unusually inviting to the curly-haired curl that Summer night. Bianca took a step forward, and a small deep breath, before retreating backwards again. What the hell was she thinking? Was she _really _considering ending her life over _stupid _high school drama?

But it didn't feel like just high school. It felt like it'd be this way forever. That she'd never have anyone or anything to love her and support her the way Katie seemed to support Drew and vise versa. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She was _alone_, all alone, and part of her felt it was her fault.

Walking across the street, more impetuously than she'd like to admit, Bianca sighed, pulling her hoodie over her head. Her curls, hardly visible through the frizz, stood out from underneath her coat. Rain was falling at an impeccable rate, unwilling to stop. Bianca could barely see in front of her. The thought grew less scary over time as she calmed and relaxed under the pressure of the rain. Her phone, a device she refused to pick up, buzzed endlessly in her pocket. She never paid attention to the little things when she thought. The little things always got to her, and bugged her to a point of distraught. They made her think about the bigger picture. That maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of this hellhole. And that maybe, just maybe, she was the cause of it all.

Voicemail. Drew left her a voicemail. So did Audra, and Bianca listened, but she still didn't return to the house. It was only when she picked up her cell on the third ring, that Audra's voice sounded worriedly from the other end of the line.

"Bianca, where the hell are you?"

"Audra-"

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Audra, chill out. I'm fine. I'm at a friend's house."

Thunder clouds were rolling in and lightning seemed a likely possibility. Despite the phony excuse, Audra worried, countering that she could hear the storm clear as day and that she knew she was outside.

"I need you home, B. Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?"

Bianca wanted to retaliate. With the constant phone calls, the anxiety over nothing, and the demanding to know where she was at all hours made Audra's worry quite obvious.

But she said none of the sort.

"Look. I'm sorry, okay? I'll be home in a bit," Bianca replied effortlessly, after much thought. Audra scoffed, but agreed that home was where they'd meet.

Bianca prodded through the flooded sidewalk, unaware of her utterly soaked sneakers that spilled water with every step. After the walk, they'd most likely be ruined. But her sneakers were the least of her worries. She just couldn't seem to stop thinking—or _feeling_, for that matter. And, frankly, she was tired of feelings. They were overrated and made her feel gross. She missed being numb, but lately everything seemed to be getting to her. It was out of character, even for the goody-two-shoes Bianca everyone thought her to be. The act was getting hard to keep up.

Upon her arrival, Bianca heard clearly the yells from upstairs.

"She's smoking, Drew!"

It was Audra. She was in an argument with Drew, an argument so clearly about her. The sound of it, the thought of it, caused her to cringe as she creeped slowly up the stairs, keeping an ear open for distinct words. The term druggie came up a few times. This only made the girl feel worse—something she hadn't thought was possible.

"Just because she has a bad past, doesn't mean you can assume things like that!" Bianca heard Drew's voice falter, as if he were unsure of his words. He continued. "She's a good person, Mom." They were strong words themselves, but lacked strength when he said them.

Bianca lost Audra _and _Drew in a matter of minutes. It was evident in both their voices that they didn't believe in her. She was beginning to choke up, her throat closing in, along with wet eyes that stung when she blinked.

"Then how do you explain these?" Bianca listened intently as she shuffled out a pack of cigarettes from God-knows-where. She hadn't left any at home, had she?

"I found these in her bag," Audra said firmly. "Cigarettes, Drew! I will not stand for smoking in this house." She paused to take a breath. "I took her in with open arms, allowed her under my roof after everything she's put us through, and look what predicament she put me in."

"But, Mom-"

"No buts, Drew. In the morning, she's out of here."

Bianca sucked in a shallow breath. Her heart, pounding at a thousand miles an hour, thumped discouragingly against her ribcage. Tears willed to spill, but she was stronger than that. Come hell or high water, she would not cry. She bit the inside of her cheek as she strode up the stairs just as slowly as she'd walked home.

"Why don't I just save you the trouble of waiting until the morning?"

Two sets of eyes shot in her direction.

"I'll leave now," she insisted. "No, really. I would love to be away from you judgmental freaks for anything more than a second."

Bianca snatched her bag from Audra, who stood, gaping, at a loss for words. She made her way away from them as quickly as she could, bag swung over her shoulder, cigarettes in hand, and tears threatening to pour from her eyes. Blinking away the salty substance, she exhaled and opened the front door, to which she met the face of Adam.

"Whoa, what's going on here?"

"Just—out of my way, please?" Bianca pushed herself hastily past the boy, weary of his bandaged shoulder still.

"Bianca!" Drew called after her. He was running now. She was across the street already, visibly soaked. "Bianca, wait up! Please, let me explain."

"Explain what? That you and your mom don't have faith in me anymore?" She was shaking her head now. The rain was falling too hard for him to even catch a glimpse of her.

"That's not true, B! That's not true at all."

"Then tell me what is true. Tell me how much you love that fucking girlfriend of yours, while I'm all alone, still trying to find someone." Bianca's eyes were refusing his. He snatched her wrist when she turned, unable to face him. "I'll never find someone!"

She didn't know what she was yelling at or who she was yelling about. She just knew that she was angry. And the fact that Drew was barely there anymore hurt. And the fact that Audra thought the worst of her and gave up on her the first chance she got made her feel like crap and less of a person.

"It's not about that. It's about us as a family. Can't you see that?"

"I can't see anything right now. I'm too blinded by all this fairytale crap you and Katie keep throwing my way."

She was walking away from him now, pride one of the only emotions she hadn't felt that day. "I don't appreciate being thrown away like last night's mu-shu pork, Drew! It sucks being everyone's last resort."

"You're not my last resort," he protested, reaching again for her hand. She shook him off aggressively, anger burning through those eyes of hers. Those eyes of hers he couldn't stand, especially when they were sad or angry. It made him feel almost worse than she did. How long had she really felt like this?

"No, you're an ass. And we'd both be better off if you left me alone."

Drew was at a loss for words. He stood, eyes widened, as he peered down at the shorter figure in front of him. Her frame was hazy through all the rain pouring before his eyes, but she looked just as sad and betrayed as she would've in broad daylight. And he knew that some things were better left unsaid. "Fine," he replied distantly. "Fine, you walk away. But there's nowhere for you to go."

"Maybe that's where I belong." Her voice was barely a whisper now, but he still managed to hear her. He couldn't hear or see anything but her. And he didn't want to. Nothing mattered more in this moment than getting her back—who even Drew, after all this time, couldn't do. "Nowhere." She shrugged, the strain in her voice obvious.

This time, when she walked away, he let her. He let her, and he watched her, and he listened to her cry.

Bianca _never _cried.

Drew guessed there was still a lot of things he didn't know about her.

* * *

A/N: _I guess I'm kind of, sort of, in love with this pairing. I really enjoy writing them for some reason, as you may already be able to tell. After I came home from school, I got a sudden inspiration to write, and I did. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did. Please, please, _please_review. It would honestly motivate me to write more, and make my day, as well. Thank you so much._


	3. Chapter 3

No matter how hard Bianca DeSousa tried, she could not get the touch, the feel, or the smell of Vince Bell off of her. Not that night—not any night. The temptation for her to scream was at an all time high. The temptation for her to cry was achingly close to becoming a reality, tears threatening to spill from her eyes any moment now.

But Bianca was too proud to cry.

Proud of what, you say? What was there to be proud of?

She wondered the same thing as she paced the stormy streets of Toronto that night—that long, eventful, Summer night.

Her voice cracked as she spoke to herself again in assurance that everything was going to be fine. That Drew was going to be fine. That Adam was going to be fine. That Audra was going to be fine. _That she, herself, was going to be fine._

But no one was there to tell her it was going to be fine. Not one person. Not Drew, not her Aunt, and certainly not Audra. It was times like this Bianca wished she had a mother. She wished she had someone—_anyone_—to love and look after her. Desperation was evident in the loveless girl's eyes, the girl who was too proud to admit she was alone. It was times like these she wished she had someone to tell her that things were going to be okay, that Vince and his groupies were locked up, and no one was after her anymore.

It just felt that, at times like these, everyone was after her. It wasn't just about Vince anymore, or Anson, or any of those dumb asses she used to look up to and call friends.

Bianca's eyes filled with tears. She was remembering _that _night. _Those _nights, when he hit her. When he took her in, abused her, _raped _her. She felt as dirty as the dog people treated her as. She felt lower than low, like no one could save her. And the saddest part was that she almost felt like she deserved it, and that it was her fault. The loneliness got to her head and twisted her into a Bianca people barely recognized. A Bianca who didn't believe in herself.

She wanted to call Drew. It was dark—oh, so dark—and she couldn't see anything in front of her, except for the street lights. She was shaking from head to toe and nothing she told herself could stop the pain and the suffering. Maybe it was better if she just _let go_.

_Deep breaths, Bianca. Deep breaths._

_Breathe in, breathe out._

But she kept remembering them. She kept remembering their faces.

She didn't want to think anymore. She didn't want to. She didn't want to cry, because, when she cried, she felt weak. And Bianca DeSousa hated feeling weak. She hated being called a slut, no matter how many people thought it was true.

Because the last person who called her_ that_ was Vince—and God knew she _did not_ want to think about him._ Not for a second._

Vince was not the first person to call her a slut and he was certainly not the last. Because—well—God knows they all were thinking it. What kind of _skank _takes boys to the Boiler Room? What kind of _skank _lets boys touch her when they already have a girlfriend? What kind of _skank _sells her body to a man?

_The kind of skank who didn't know who she was,_ she'd say back.

But she never did say that. She never did tell them why.

She just did. She just _did _stupid things. And she was trying to change, but it was hard when everyone looked down on her for past mistakes. It was almost impossible to get a girl to speak of Bianca without the term "slut" being thrown around, or maybe even a quick-tongued "bitch."

"I just want someone to believe that I can change," Bianca said, her voice tenuous and off balance as she spoke. Her hands shook in her lap, neglecting every spot of hope. Rain poured from the night sky like it would any other night. Thunder clashed from behind, causing her to shake with anticipation and uncertainty.

No one.

There was _no one._

"I believe that you can change."

Bianca seized breathing. Her eyes widened. She refused to look up at the man she knew she knew. There was only one person that voice could belong to. And when she looked up at him, she knew that there was only one person those eyes to belong to.

Those bright, blue, crystal clear eyes. The ones she could always see right through and feel at home.

Drew's.

That was when she began to cry. That was when her composure fell apart. And she just cried. And cried. And cried.

The park bench Bianca sat on was now a place for two. She was no longer alone. He was caressing her, telling her that it was going to be okay. "He's gone," he'd whispered gently in her ear. To which, Bianca would sob even harder, but look up at him, and nod. "He's gone," he'd say again, and, this time, Bianca smiled.

"Thank you," she'd say. And she'd lay her head against his shoulder and just breathe, like she'd wanted to all this time.

And he held her. He held her close to him, his arm tucked around her bruised waist. His hold on her was strong and welcoming and, despite her discomfort, she pulled herself closer to him, inhaling his scent. The musky, warm scent that wouldn't escape her mind, not even after all this time. Everything about him, engrained in her memory. No matter what, she just kept coming back. And not for the reasons people thought.

She didn't _need_ him because she was weak. She didn't _need_ him because she was codependent. She didn't _need_ him because of anything, other than everyone needed someone, and that every other person in her life made it very clear to her that they didn't want to be that someone.

But _he did. _He would be her someone, even if it was just for one night. Even if Katie was still home, awaiting his arrival, he would be Bianca's someone. He would be there for her, tonight, when she needed him most. And when he curled his arms around her again, pulling her so close her strawberry shampoo lingered in senses, she knew this to be true. She reciprocated, wrapping her arms and him, and gasped slightly for air. Her finger nails dug into his leather jacket, that jacket he wore so well.

She pulled away from him for a brief moment, chuckling and wiping away a stray tear. "You look Fonzy in that thing," she teased, gesturing towards the pleather. "A certain Matlin going to take it off when you get home tonight?" Despite her comical tone, Bianca found herself serious in the most subtle way. _This _was serious. Was he?

"Not tonight," he murmured. His hand found hers again and their fingers were entangled with each other's. Her eyes glanced down at her shitty paint job, to which she scowled at the chipping red polish. Drew laughed at the hilarity of the situation.

They were in the middle of the city, yet everyone slept. They were all alone, danger a likely possibility, and she was worried about her nails. Her damn finger nails.

Drew was laughing. He was laughing hard.

"You're funny, you know that?"

"Shut up." She shoved his arm playfully, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

And even with the whole world against them, they laughed. They laughed together, in sync, and they walked home, hand-in-hand. They didn't give a damn who saw them. It wasn't like they were together or anything. Just friends, right? Because friends help friends. And friends don't leave friends when things get hard. They just don't.

* * *

"Thank you" were the last two words the girl said to him that night. They were the last two words she said to him as he tucked her into his bed, offered her dry clothes, and wrapped his muscular arms around her tentative waist.

"Thank you" were the last two words she said to him as he kissed her strained temple with soft lips and rubbed the knot in her back, just where it hurt, and said, "I'll tell my mom that you're back for good in the morning, alright?" even when she hadn't asked for a place to stay. He did it without a second thought—because that's what people do when they care about each other.

No matter how alone she felt, there would always be a part of Drew that... cared for her deeply. It didn't matter who his girlfriend-of-the-week was or who Bianca was seeing, because they would always be there for each other. And he'd always remember her, and her sad eyes when she had bad news, and the way she lit up when he bought her something special or kissed her cheek when he got excited. He would always remember those moments. He would always remember the tears she cried when Anson touched her in _that way_, the way she didn't like, or the guilt and pain she felt the night Adam got shot. And the times when she thrashed in her sleep because she just couldn't seem to forget, he would always remember. Because he knew the extent of her strength. He knew who she was.

She was Bianca DeSousa. She was the love of his life. _She was the girl he chose._

* * *

**Fin.**

A/N: _After forever and a day, I finished. God. I am incredibly sorry for my delay. Honestly, I feel like no one read this story, but it's whatever, since it's kind of my first project. I'm just glad I finished it. Enjoy._


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